


medicine on an empty stomach

by vanfeefee19



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Abusive Parents, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Blood and Gore, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, Michael Afton is Mike Schmidt, Murder, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Paranormal, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Substance Abuse, Vanessa is Vanny from fnafvr, Vomiting, William has a cult, for some fucking reason
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23647852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanfeefee19/pseuds/vanfeefee19
Summary: Michael thought the horrors he ran away from were long gone.They'd never even left him in the first place.---link to playlist inspired by what has been and what will be written: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL0ccPaFGOlZ7fAkGOiOBtJBm_hKNJbvCB
Comments: 11
Kudos: 78





	1. Stomachache

Michael was laughing. 

He was laughing so hard.

This was so much fun, Michael thought happily. His friends expressed their mutual agreement through their own loud, boisterous laughter.

But his ears rang sour as Joseph started up his wailing again. "Michael, I wanna go home!" Snot bubbled grossly on his face. "I want Mommy and Daddy!"

Michael shook the red out of his eyes, grabbing his half-brother roughly by the arm and hoisting him onto the stage. "What's wrong, Joey? Don't tell me you're afraid of ol' Fredbear!" Michael's friends joined him on the stage, teasing the 6 year old along with him.

Joseph sobbed as he was dragged closer and closer to the menacing character in question. The faded faux fur and misshapen, melted face casting seemed to stretch on for forever in his eyes. Joseph screamed, thinking for a brief moment that the bear and his rabbit counterpart were watching him. They were waiting for him. They had been expecting him, and he was far from fashionably late to their party.

"Or is he not good enough for you?" Michael started up his taunting again, egged on by the praise the boys beside him gave. "Seemed pretty good when you were cuddling that little plush version of him last night." Joseph pushed his little legs as hard against the wood as he could, trying to distance himself from the gargantuan creations. Of course, it was no use against Michael's slightly pudgy, too awkward preteen body. He didn't even budge.

"Ew, the kid still sleeps with a fucking toy? What a fag." 'Freddy' chuckled from the edge of the stage, the end of a lollipop sticking out through his mask. The other boys laughed along. 

Michael let out a desperate laugh as they joked, whipping his head to face the kid. A sick idea blossomed in his mind. "If you're such a faggot, Joey, just give the big bear a kiss!" Joseph cried louder, beginning to panic. The boys surrounding him, wearing masks of people that Daddy had told him were friends, scared him as they laughed.

Michael lifted his screaming brother up, forcing him to face the large bear and yanked on his hair. Joseph pushed back, beginning to hyperventilate as he tried to keep away from this nightmare caricature of his Fredbear. 

"Go on, bitch! Kiss him if you love him so much, faggot!" Michael had hate in his voice as he yelled. His faceless audience applauded his violence, fueled his hate, gave him the attention he so desperately craved in all of these acts. Joseph shook his head, clinging to his brother and begging him to stop.

It was like a switch went off in Michael's head. Of course the little brat wouldn't do what he said if he wasn't coddled. No, no, no; Mommy and Daddy had spoiled the little shit too much for that. In the blink of an eye, Michael was giving Joseph a sickeningly sweet smile, pinching his tear-stained cheeks harder than he needed to.

"If you kiss Mr. Fazbear like I told you to, I'll take you home Joey." Michael's face hurt from the hysterical grin he wore.

Joseph was hesitant, calming himself down just enough to speak. His lungs relaxed as much as they could as he stopped nearing hyperventilation. "Y-you promise?" The poor boy was so innocent. He didn't even see the lie that was bleeding into Michael's voice. "Just one- one kiss and then ho- ome?"

Michael nodded, his grip still unyielding on the pest. "Just a little one." Mikey sounded so much like Daddy, Joseph thought. Why shouldn't I believe him?

Joseph affirmed himself with a shaky nod, adjusting himself in Michael's arms, inching ever closer to that big, toothy grin. He could count the teeth easily from this distance if he had been a year or two older. Hesitantly, Joseph sniffled, closing his eyes and leaning forward in hopes that his face would land in a spot that Michael would accept. He was too afraid to see it through, didn't want to ruin his Fredbear forever-

Michael dropped him.

Joseph screamed. 

It wasn't a big drop, just a few inches, but it felt like Joseph had been sent careening into the ajar maw. The older boys giggled as Joseph began to cry again, eyes unmoving from the teeth that almost seemed to stare back. Michael gave him some bullshit excuse, and readjusted him, almost listening to the voice that told him to stop when he saw 'Bonnie' raise one of the cameras they had bought at the drugstore.

Michael coaxed Joseph into one more try. Now that his audience had a medium to preserve this memory in, Joseph would never leave the pizzaria without a photo of him kissing the life-sized replica of his best friend. Joseph shook as he was pushed even closer to the wide mouth, and it briefly registered in his mind that it was big enough to encompass his whole head. He was almost there, tears streaming down his face as he-

Snap.

The flash from the camera scared the anxious little boy so hard he jumped. Michael lost his grip for a moment, after trying to hold him so high up for so long.

Joseph knocked right into that slightly-ajar mouth.

The sharp movement was like the first domino in an intricate design, setting off the faulty springlocks within. That was why Uncle Henry had stitched the label, "handle with Care, refrain from sharp movements when in use," on the back of the suit. There were rules for a reason, but none of the rules were there to protect Joseph as he heard the pop and crackling of his own skull being shattered.

In the next minute or so, there were four sounds that Michael would never forget.

The door slamming as Michael's guests ran.

The click of Fredbear's jaw as Michael pried a limp body from his mouth.

The two thuds, the first as his brother hit the ground, the second as he followed. 

That first scream that escaped his lungs.

Michael had never had tears come to his eyes so quickly in his life. There was too much red for Joey to be ok. It was all over everything; their clothes, his face, that stupid fucking bear. He was just trying to play a game for his friends, he never meant for Joseph to be hurt.

He was frantic, hands shaking so hard that they could barely work as he flipped over his brother's cooling body. Michael wished he never did.

Joseph's face was so much worse than the crushed back of his head. His little face was caved in and deformed, a deep purple covering the bruised flesh.

Michael let out another terrified scream, tears escaping whether he wanted them to or not. He backpedaled away from the gore, vomit spewing grossly from his mouth as he doubled over. He shook violently, unable to do anything but scream in fear as he stared at the lifeless body mere feet away from him. Oh, God, what was he going to tell Mother and Father?

Father.

~

Michael fought for breath as he awoke, sweat covering his body from the memory. He was Twenty-two years old and still having that same damned nightmare. He lit a cigarette, grabbing at the motel nightstand for his lighter as he shook. 

The first breath was like heaven. He shook still, but knew how to calm that part. The breathing bit was only for the hyperventilating.

As soon as the cigarette neared the butt, the young adult kicked off his blankets and rolled up a leg on his boxers.

The brown mark on his skin left behind looked identical to the hundreds of marks adorning his body.

He laid in bed for a few more minutes, simply relishing in the few quiet moments he ever managed to get in the paranoid brain of his. 

Michael was knocked out of his momentary meditation as an annoying beeping began blaring from his phone. He rolled over, and picked it up without checking the number. "What the fuck, man, it's 7 am on a Sunday," he growled into the receiver.

"He's back."


	2. old friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael leaves for Junior's.

He was up in an instant.

"What do you mean, 'He's back'? I thought the fucker disappeared!" It had been nearly ten years at this point since William had been seen. Not much time, but when you consider that the Fazbear franchise had dissolved his involvement that same year, everyone assumed he'd offed himself in shame. Michael had always known it wasn't like what everyone thought, but he had always hoped that the bastard was gone for good.

"There were reports of some kid almost getting kidnapped at one of his preferred locations." The voice on the other end coughed harshly for a moment, and Michael slipped into some worn jeans as he continued. "I've checked the servers and logs for security breaches, but none of the bots even saw him come in. A camera did glitch out, though. I'm still working on shutting down the ones at another location- could you go check for me? Just spend a night or two in the security office, you won't have to get a hotel that way."

Michael tried to ignore the feeling of being watched, a chill going down his spine. At least he knew whose eyes they were. "Yeah, well I'd also prefer to not be killed by hunks of remnant. Can't I just explore while people are there?" He finished with his belt, and turned around to look at the bed. Joey's stuffed bear stared at him. "Don't look at me like that." He turned the bear around so it wasn't watching him anymore.

"Well, why not both? Just watch the cameras and keep people from wandering. Who are you talking to?" Another cough.

A sigh escaped him, and he flipped off the bear as he searched the room for a semi-clean shirt. "Nobody, don't worry about it. And you say that like it's the easiest thing in the world. I owe those kids, what if they know it was my fault? They'll hurt me." He settled on an old Nirvana t-shirt, placing the phone on the dresser as he got it over his head. Michael nearly jumped out of his skin when he opened his eyes to see little Fred watching him again. He huffed, and turned him around once more.

"Mikey, you don't still think he did that because of you, do you? He hurt a lot of people, the man was just batshit crazy. He can't blame you for his actions. You were just a kid." There was hesitation as he spoke. " Have you been taking your medicine? I don't want a repeat of last summer. People care about you, kid."

"A stupid fucking kid," Michael mumbled. "Yeah, I have. And that was the drugs, not me. I'm in control, promise." He began to pack his suitcase as they talked. Michael needed to hurry up and get out.

Henry didn't seem convinced. "Just stay out of that stuff, okay? Talk to me when you get upset. I'm here for you." He coughed harshly for a moment, audibly pulling the receiver away from his face for a moment. "But yeah, I'm worried he's back from his little vacation. I think I found a way to shut down the remnant with the bots, I just need more time. Can you please check it?"

Michael sighed again. Couldn't he have a break from this nonsense? Just one good day, that's all he wanted. He was so tired. "Yeah, whatever." He couldn't tell if he was replying to the first request or the second. He told himself it didn't matter anyways. "Which one is it? And you better not have fucking pneumonia or something. You're getting too old for that stuff." He set the packed suitcase on the bed and got to work on his backpack. He forced himself to ignore the stuffed bear sitting on the edge of the mattress.

Henry laughed. "Nah, just drank a little more than usual last night, got everything all agitated. I'm not that old, promise. It's the Durham location." Michael threw the bag next to the suitcase and put on a hoodie, getting his car keys from the nightstand.

"Uh-huh. Whatever helps you sleep. Well, I better get on to Junior's," Michael leaned against the window for a moment, watching the cars fly down the highway. He flipped off Fredbear again when he noticed him watching from the headboard. "Call me if you get any news."

"Alright, I won't bother you more. I'll guve the manager a call, let them know you're coming. Love you, Mike. Mean it." Michael pinched his arm when he found himself wanting to hear Henry repeat that, ignored the sincerity of his voice.

"See you around. Bye," Michael looked down at his phone to hang up, setting it in his pocket before turning to grab his backpack again. He continued to pack in the silence. He searched around the room for anything he could take with him to pawn for cash, settling on the alarm clock before moving on to the bathroom. He tried to convince himself that he didn't need the cash Henry sent him, he could take care of himself.

"You knew you'd have to go eventually, Michael."

That fucking bear again.

He didn't respond. Just kept putting things away. He set the bag down to lean against the nightstand, looking up to see his yellow companion had moved themself again. He began to make the bed, letting himself get lost in the routine.

"You've been wasting time, Michael."

He tried to pretend that he didn't glance at them.

"I told you that you needed to fix it. You need to do it so you can rest."

The metallic noise seemed to come from within Michael's own skull. Sometimes he wondered if Henry was right, that the bear was just a hallucination from him skipping his meds again. 

He knew he had taken them, though.

"This will be the first step. There are many more who need your help, Michael."

He took his suitcase outside, feeling the oppressive air from that room fall away as he shut the door behind himself. He walked over to his car, placing the flimsy thing in the trunk of his '81 Camaro. He returned to the room to get his backpack, feeling the weight return to his chest.

"Do it for Joseph. Let yourselves rest."

Michael picked the bear up as he grabbed his backpack. He walked back out to the car, locking the motel's room behind him and leaving the keys hanging from the door. He sat in the driver's seat, putting the backpack in the passenger seat's floor and the bear onto the dashboard. "Alright, let' set some ground rules," Micheal spoke to Fredbear as he started the car, backing out of the parking lot and driving towards the highway. "You cannot be doing that shit where you get all fucky when I'm on the phone anymore." He pointed his right hand accusingly at the stuffed animal, beginning to speed up and merge with the other cars. "It's distracting. And rude. Second, if I do this, and that's a big IF, you have to help me. You don't get to be some omnipotent fucking thing and then make me run around in circles."

He looked back at the bear expectantly. Michael rolled his eyes after a moment, refocusing on the road. "What, not got anything to say for once? That's a surprise." Michael tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. "You better know where they all are, at least. Let me know if they're behind me or some shit, right? Get you a pen and fucking paper so you can write down the locations. Then I'll burn your creepy ass."

"Whatever you say, Michael."

He rolled his eyes again and lowered the window, lighting his second cigarette of the day. The hot June sun had barely been gracing the sky and already the world seemed good, and right.

Luckily, Michael knew things never were as they seemed.


	3. Blueprints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fredbear manages to coax a nervous Mike into entering Junior's.

The sun was still shining as Michael pulled into Junior's, though much lower in the sky. It was only around 6:30 though, almost 7:00, so he had plenty of time to get ready for his first night before second shift's end. He shut the car off, but continued to grip its wheel for a mere moment. Michael was scared.

"Get it over with. Then we can move on to the others."

He exhaled a shaky breath, watching a small family walk in front of his car. They all laughed and joked amongst each other, contagious smiles expressing how well their night was going. The little girl held a small stuffed version of Chica in her equally small arms. Michael wondered briefly if they had been here for a birthday or just as a treat, remembering faintly how often he could see the same faces week after week, or only once and them disappear from his life completely. The happiness hat leeched into the air around him mad Mike nostalgic for an experience he'd never even had. He found himself still unable to move, felt like he was stitched into the faux leather.

"You know you'll have to eventually." It felt like that stupid toy was mocking him. Michael had good reason to fear entering the building, five of the people inside had been killed because of his stupid ass.

Michael sighed, finally unbuckling himself and turning to face his little passenger. "When we go in here, you're gonna let me get my shit done. Don't get fucky if I'm busy." He pulled the backpack into the passenger seat, unzipping the main pouch. He pulled his wallet out, getting his driver's license out and slipping them both into his pocket, not knowing if they would ask for identification but figuring it better to be prepared than not. When he got settled, he looked back at Fredbear. "Stay in the damned bag until I get you out. Don't need some snot-nosed ankle-biter getting a hold of you." Michael put him into the bag upside-down as a sort of punishment for causing him so much grief, grabbing the bag and slipping it onto his shoulder as he opened the car door and stood.

He stretched for a moment, joints sore from driving nearly eight hours with no break. A deep sigh escaped his chest as he looked up at the sign above his head, having to force himself to take the steps forward. As he finally reached the door and opened it, Michael briefly wondered how disheveled he looked, not that it mattered much to him anyway. Let people think what they wanted, they weren't the ones he had a debt to repay to.

"Hiyah, and welcome to Junior's! The name's Vanessa, can I help you out?" The peppy blonde that greeted Michael's entrance gave him a painfully obvious once-over. God. This kid was like, what, twelve? It didn't help that he knew he looked like the end result of a dumpster-diver's tragic love affair with a sewer. He retracted his previous statement mentally, fuck that, people needed to get some standards. 

"Uh, my buddy said he called in earlier? I'm here to help out with the, um, security issue." Michael hoped the teen understood what he was referencing. If there was anything he had learned from following Henry and William around the pizzerias was that you never directly spoke of these incidents, business was bad enough without reminding the customers around them that safety was merely an illusion at Freddy's.

"Ooh!" She managed to perk up even more, running around the front counter to meet Mike face-to-shoulder, as she was much shorter than the young adult. "So you're that Schmidt-guy that Scott was talking about, huh?" She shook his hand excitedly. "Y'know, he's pretty happy that you're here to help us out. Our last 'babysitter'- er, night guard- quit last month, so Scotty's been all worked up and running the security department on his own." Ah, so he was here as a 'security stand-in from corporate'. Henry either gave him maintenance or guard whenever he had him check up on locations, so he knew right away what information they had about him, and his abilities.

Michael nodded. "Not gonna be staying too long, just until I figure out how to keep kids from turning into lawsuits." Vanessa giggled at that, briefly looking behind him as the bell signaled another party entering behind Mike. "I'll let you get to them. Mind pointing me in the direction of this Scott- he is the manager on-site, right?"

She nodded, hopping the counter to return to her post. "He's back in the security office. Sure you don't need any help?"

He shook his head, hiking his bag further up on his shoulder and beginning to walk towards the main dining area. "Nah, was here when the place was built. Fazbear locations aren't too hard to figure out."

Vanessa's eyes squinted in confusion for a moment, but didn't say anything, simply waving a goodbye to her temporary 'coworker' as she began helping out the family.

Michael took an immediate left, walking past tables and the kitchen doors until he reached the long hallway. He heard faint conversation emanating from within the office, leaning against the door frame and knocking on a window to signal his presence.

The man on the phone- presumably Scott- looked up for a moment in surprise, and held up a finger to silently ask Michael to wait. "Uh, I'm gonna have to get out of here Jeremy, the help just showed up." Mike took in his appearance as he spoke. He was sitting, but Michael guessed he was a little taller than himself. Definitely thinner, and healthier, this guy had certainly eaten all the vegetables on his plate as a kid. Brown eyes met green as the redhead turned to face him, setting the receiver back on his hook and standing, a fake smile painfully plastered on his face. "Hey! Sorry about that," they shook hands for a moment, Mike giving the other a polite nod of acknowledgement. "Just finishing up business at another location. You're Michael, right? It's nice to finally meet you, I take it you already met Vanessa."

He nodded in reply. "Don't worry about it, I understand. And yeah, that hostess has some spunk. Nice place you got running here. Kids seem real pleased with it, parents too."

Scott laughed. "She's something else, alright. That's just the problem. I was sick when that kid came out screaming."

"Well, here's to hoping we can nip that in the bud. I don't blame you for being upset. Mind pointing me into the direction of where it happened?" Michael sat his bag down under the desk as they moved into the opposite hallway from the one he'd entered in. 

"Here's hoping," Scott mumbled under his breath. Poor guy. He seemed really worked up about all the mess. If Mike hadn't lived through it himself a couple times already, he might have been leaning more toward that response, but it was like sickening clockwork. Scott stopped in between the janitor's closet and the bathrooms. "Kid was definitely over here, witnesses and other cameras prove that much. But this," he explained, pointing up at a camera closer to the office that was aimed directly at their spot, "Bugged out. Like the tape in the system shredded itself, almost, or wasn't even in place." 

Mike nodded, looking around. There was a couple of arcade machines opposite the closet- Galaga and Mario's pixelated titles flashed brightly against the contrasting gray walls. He figured that someone could theoretically hide there and be hidden from the dining area. He briefly glanced into the janitor's closet, taking note that the attic hatch was still accessible. He could check the bathrooms after the end of the shift, there was enough drama for now, and Junior's didn't need the image of another prowler being added to their current list.

"Anything obvious yet?" Scott picked at his nails nervously, the faint yellow telling Mike that he was aching for a cigarette right about now. Great, now Mike wanted one too. "Should we even stay open? The owner might tan my hide for closing, but I've wanted to, said we needed to as well, ever since it happened. He was the one who said to keep up appearances."

Michael crossed his arms, leading him back to the office. "I would close a couple hours early tonight. Let the people get out while there's still daylight. Other than that, I'd say you're fine to just close off the hallways with some chairs or something. There wasn't anything too out of place, but I'll be able to check more in the space between closing and system-idle." He nearly shivered at the thought of those bots waking up.

Scott nodded. "I think I can get away with that. The rest of the staff will certainly appreciate it. Thanks for all the help." he stood at the doorway as Mike settled into the office chair, momentarily reaching into a drawer for a piece of paper and a marker to write with. He used the window as a surface, and Mike flipped the sign in his head to read 'CLOSING AT 8 PM SHARP,' followed by the date. He had around an hour to dick around then, good. That was plenty of time for him to sit and keep himself from getting the hell out of Dodge.

Michael shrugged. "It's nothing. Let me get acquainted with the system here and I should be good to go." He glanced at the clunky white monitors in front of him; live security feed on one, and an open tab of Solitaire on the other. Good to know someone was keeping busy.

Scott gave him a thumbs-up, beginning to walk away. "Yell if you need anything," He told his guest.

Michael watched him retreat down the hall, before pulling Fredbear out of his bag and setting him on top of one of the computer monitors. He got to work getting his stuff out; things like his flashlight and going into his pocket, while his gun and knife were laid out on the desk. 

"You have to do this, Michael. Nobody else needs to be hurt anymore." The sharp, almost childlike voice somehow managed to drown out the ambiance of the busy restaurant. Michael knew nobody else could hear them, though, as he faintly heard Scott's voice explain their early closing to the patrons.

"It's always about these places with you, y'know? A little, 'isn't the weather great,' or 'how are you feeling' would be nice once in a while." Michael looked up at the plush, flicking it in the nose.

The lack of response seemed to piss the man off to a reasonable extent, and he got a pen and paper out and started writing. When he finished, Mike ripped it so that the words were in a small square. He found the tape sitting beside a container of pens behind a small file organizer, and taped his masterpiece to Fredbear's bowtie.

The words 'I cause problems on purpose' displayed on the little thing set Michael off, and he had to cover his mouth from obnoxiously laughing. He knew the stuffie was taking pity on him in allowing the brief lapse of anxiety, as they could simply move theirself if they wanted it off. Michael ignored that thought, and decided to refocus on exploring the database in front of him, more ideas on how to antagonize the yellow bear rising to his head as he went along.


	4. monsters in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Scott explore the pizzeria.

When 8:00 finally rolled around, Michael was still fiddling with the security camera system. It just didn't make sense to the man why those few minutes were the only ones that the hallway camera had stopped working for. He tried to rationalize it in his head, to trick himself into thinking that there was nothing out of the ordinary. That part of Michael, the one that lied so sourly about the situation, was the dangerous one. He was weak to it in his paralyzing fear of the man he called 'Father.' The system was old, nearly original to the building, so of course lapses in the outdated equipment was expected. Children also lied, he reminded himself, they could create monsters out of the shadows in their closets and their minds. The overactive imagination of a young child was a dangerous thing, something he was well acquainted with. 

Deep down he knew that those excuses were simply that, excuses. Lazy ones at that, too. It was why William had gotten away with all that he had. That dangerous reliance on the scared human mind's need to rationalize things it didn't understand.

A knock on the door frame to his left pulled Michael out of his thoughts. Scott waved and watched him stand, tired eyes betraying his positive smile. "Hey. The last stragglers went home. It's just us and Vanessa, she's finishing up some closing stuff for me." He backed up, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall for Michael to enter the hallway. "Ready for tonight?"

Michael rubbed the sleep from his eyes as the janitor's closet was unlocked, and Scott rummaged through the bottom of the closet to unfold a rusty step stool. "God, no. I've seen the reports of what other late-night workers have gone through at certain locations, and I have no want or need to turn into soup to please those bots." He climbed the stool as Scott backed away, now tall enough that his head brushed against the popcorn ceiling. Mike pushed the panel up and back, just enough that he could lift himself into the crawl space. 

He clicked on his flashlight, retrieved moments before from where he had tucked it into his belt. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary- the space was just as cramped as he'd remembered it. A mass of air ducts, wires, and insulation created a maze for him to navigate, and Mike found nothing noteworthy of being deemed "off." In fact, the only thing that had even changed was the thick layer of dust on every surface, and strange piles of dead spiders in all the corners and crevices. He scooted himself back to the access door, letting Scott help him down to the floor so he could close the panel. 

Scott re-locked the door as Mike shook the dust and cobwebs off his clothes, sneezing as some of it managed to reach his own nose. "Well," he started, watching Mike return the now off flashlight to his belt. "Find anything?"

Michael shook his head in negation. "Nothing I noticed. Everything seems normal- well, normal for an attic at least." They walked side by side towards the bathrooms, spending barely any time in either of them. Nothing was wrong. Maybe that was what made the men so nervous, the simple fact that there was no Boogeyman hiding in the corner, instead regular dirt and dust resting on the floor. There was only one more room to check on that side of the building; the parts and service room. The pair walked through the eerily quiet dining room, Mike taking note that Foxy was out of order. He held a hand out, stopping Scott as he looked up at the small stage. "How long has he been like this?"

"What, broken? Er, maybe nine, ten months at this point? Our tech guy can't figure out what's wrong with him. Says he thinks it's the hydraulics, but the chest cavity won't come undone for him to check." Michael pulled back the curtains, revealing a disheveled animatronic. Foxy's jaw was the most obvious mechanical error that he saw, almost hanging by a bolt. Other than that, it seemed to be merely cosmetic issues; ripped faux fur coupled with spots entirely exposing the endoskeleton beneath. Michael walked a slow circle around the tall bot, taking in everything and analyzing it the way Henry had taught him to. "It would be funny if the shaking didn't scare the little ones. Heard one parent joke that he was epileptic before we had to rope him off."

Mike stopped directly behind Foxy, pressing the red button that was supposed to unlock the hooks keeping the chest plate in place. Nothing happened other than the button getting stuck. He forced himself to ignore the putrid smell that wafted from the hole around the neck, telling him exactly what horrible coagulated substance had glued itself to the internal mechanics. "Mind if I turn it on?" He turned to Scott expectantly. "Just wanna see how bad it is."

Scott nodded, taking a seat on top of a nearby table. "If you can work it, be my guest." There was a momentary silence as Michael pulled back the screen meant to replicate a beach, exposing the switches and wires connected to the bot. He pulled a few levers, selected a pre-programmed show, and hopped off the stage to sit beside Scott.

Soon, loud whirring was heard coming from Foxy as his systems started up. His head lifted, and eyes lit to glow a bright orange. The jaw barely moved as he came to life, harsh clicks and hisses heard as pistons worked at capacity to turn his head and waist, arms lifting expressively. The buzzing and distorted voice audio added to Michael's uncomfort at what had become of his childhood favorite character. "Hello there, lads an' lassies!" The dramatic and thick accent was nostalgic in a painful way. "Welcome ta' Pirate's Cove!" At that sentence, Foxy's arm swung out, and his body got stuck. Suddenly, the audio recording skipped, playing the same word, "Cove," over and over as the body shook violently. Scott was right, it was almost funny. 

After a moment, Mike stood, and climbed back onto the stage to shut him down. The room quieted quickly as the pistons and gears ceased to move, and the whirring of the engine hushing at its loss of power. Foxy's head bowed, upper half sagging at the lack of support. Michael replaced the curtains so that the bot, as well as the accompanying switches, were hidden once more from view. He hopped off the stage, looking up as Scott stood. 

"Hydraulics are definitely an issue. And based on how loud he got when he was moving, I'd say he needs a new processor too." Michael knew that was just scratching the tip of the iceberg in the errors with the anthropomorphic fox, but Foxy wasn't the issue right now. Silently, he hoped that since the bot was having such technical difficulties, it wouldn't be an issue to him during his guard shift.

Scott scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah, I was worried about that. All these repairs are just so expensive- and we can't even access the parts to fix the damn things. I'm worried they're going to all be out of order soon." They continued on to the parts and service room, Michael not even giving the main stage so much as a second glance. Scott unlocked it so that they could enter, flicking on the lights and leading Mike inside.

The oldest Afton child looked around the room in vague curiosity, the spare, empty mascot heads looming on shelves along one wall. There was a bare endoskeleton sitting on the table, all hunched over, almost as if it were asleep. Mike couldn't make out which character it was supposed to be, eventually deciding that it was a backup for if the main three characters ever became defunct. 

He looked around, finding nothing that suggested a break in or that someone else had been in the room recently. Odd, he thought, that it would seem that way. Hadn't the police done their own investigation following the incident? Surely they did, Michael was just being paranoid again.

After a few more moments of exploration, they both concluded that no one else was hiding in the room. Scott led Mike back out and into the dining area, where they saw a somehow still energetic Vanessa eating a slice of pizza, most likely discarded by one of the earlier parties. "Hey!" She waved at them, speaking with a mouthful before swallowing the food in her mouth, and standing. She began to walk over to the boys, the three converging in the center of the dining room. "Did you guys find anything?"

Michael ignored the nervous feeling that he got from the look she momentarily gave him- it had only been in her eyes for a second, maybe less. "No, everything seems fine over here. Should we check the kitchen?"

Scott shook his head, arms crossing once more. He did that a lot, Mike figured he had some sort of insecurity surrounding either his chest or stomach. "I checked myself. Nobody suspicious had entered or exited the kitchen before or after it happened." He looked down at his watch for the time, letting out a sigh as he read the clock face. "We've still got two hours until midnight. Want me to go grab you something from the gas station for tonight?"

Mike shrugged. "Maybe something to wake myself up. I ate before I got here, so I'm not hungry." 

Scott nodded, taking his keys from his pocket and ruffling Vanessa's hair. "Try not to cause too much trouble. I'll take you home when I get back."

The two watched him leave, hearing the tell-tale ringing of the front door opening and closing behind him. Vanessa motioned for Mike to follow her, as she returned to her previous place and finished off her pizza. He obliged her, deciding himself to be seated on top of the table once more. 

"He your brother or something?" Michael was vaguely confused as to why she got a ride from Scott home from work.

She shook her head, laughing momentarily. "Nah, parents kicked me out when I turned 18. Scott gave me a place to stay so I wouldn't be, y'know, homeless. I don't have a car, so he usually gives me rides to work if I'm at this location."

"You work at his other place, too?" Mike felt bad for the kid now. He understood what it was like to be rejected and unloved by your parents. 

"Yup. I'm basically the assistant manager, so he doesn't overwork himself trying to be in two places at once." She seemed calm and confident in her answer. Mike got a weird feeling in his gut, similar to when Fredbear was watching him, but something was... off. 

There was an awkward pause in the conversation as Vanessa chewed, Michael taking the lull to look around the dining room momentarily.

"So I take it you used to live around here?" Vanessa looked up at him curiously, wiping grease from the corners of her mouth. "You mentioned having been here when it was built when you first got here, remember?"

Shit. Michael was a certified dumbass. He did a poor job of covering up the fact that he'd said something he didn't mean to, stuttering for a moment before speaking. "Ah, no, not really. Just knew some people involved." He wanted to punch himself in the face, the look on Vanessa's showed that she very clearly saw through his bullshit.

Despite the fact that the both knew he was lying (to an extent, he wasn't entirely wrong in saying that he knew someone involved), Vanessa didn't mention anything. She just nodded, and threw away her trash. Grabbing her coat from a hook by the lobby door, she returned to where Mike was sitting. She looked like she was about to speak, when the glare of headlights shone through the front door. "That'd be Scott," she told him, the pair walking to the door.

Scott made it in, handing an energy drink to Michael as Vanessa walked outside and got into his car. "Didn't know which kind you'd like, but I figured this would be okay. Be careful tonight, alright?"

Michael took the drink gladly, nodding at the others words. "This is fine, thank you. And trust me, I will."

They then parted, Scott pausing at the door to lock it up behind himself. Michael walked down the right hallway to the security office, drink in hand, and tried to mentally prepare himself for what the night held for him. He sat in the desk chair, looking at Fredbear.

"Hold on to your butt," he told the toy, dreading what was to come.


	5. visitors in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael makes some friends and has a minor panic attack.

"AHHHH!!"

A piercing, high pitched, nearly child-like scream ripped through the (mostly) empty pizzeria, jolting Michael from his focus on the camera facing Pirate's Cove. He looked around the small office for a moment, skin alive as an uneasy feeling washed over him. 

He was satisfied with the empty office, and returned his eyes to the computer monitor in front of him. Mike flicked through the camera views, that uneasy feeling growing as it became increasingly evident that something was wrong. None of the animatronics had moved. 

What had screamed?

Michael made his second mistake of the night- the first being the fact that he came here in the first place- and left the safety of his office.

Flashlight on and shined at the ground to guide his steps, he started down the right hall. As he got within reach of the doorway separating the hallway from the dining room, he turned it off. The ambient light from the stage that illuminated the demonic hunks of metal were bright enough that he felt comfortable with it off.

That, and he didn't want to set off any of them on accident. 

Michael stood at the doorway for maybe five minutes, scared to even breathe. Eventually, he worked up the courage to peek around the corner and watch the stage.

A part of him wondered if they could see infrared. Henry had the habit of adding anything special to the bots when the franchise had first started, so it wasn't necessarily a far-fetched idea. Mike very quickly shut that part of his head up for the moment, now was not the time for his paranoia to rear its ugly head.

He watched the bots do nothing, and he guessed that was partially why he was so uneasy. Because that was the thing; he had been psyching himself up for violent attacks, risking life and limb as he fought valiantly against the angry and vengeful undead. Michael had gotten none of that. 

Yet.

Resting his head against the doorframe as he watched the main trio, Mike held himself in a self-comforting hug. He felt as if eyes were on him, but they all stood stock still, their eyes' forward gaze remaining unwavering. 

It was an unnerving thing, the bots. It was bad enough that they all had goofy cartoon faces and matted, plastic fur that had most likely begun to grow mold (Michael had always hated- no, despised- toys from the 70's and 80's. He briefly thought back to a time when he remembered his mother bringing home a Cabbage Patch doll for Joseph in the months before the incident, and how anxious the face had made him. Joseph's story of Michael burning the doll were neither here nor there, however), but their lack of animation seemed to add a special edge to their creep factor. 

This was because most children's toys, he mused, had happy memories. These talking graves wore their sorrow in their unblinking eyes. 

Michael was about to move to go and check the kitchen when he felt it. It wasn't there very long, no, just a mere moment, but as that rotten, stinking breath blew against his neck and rustled his hair Michael thought he just might scream himself.

Quickly he turned around, and found himself having to look up into a familiar, yet unpleasant, face. Fredbear himself stood there in front of him limply; and not the small stuffed bear that Mike loved to tease, but instead that stupid springlock suit from the diner. It moaned quietly as Mike stared up as frightened tears welled in his eyes, almost like the (seemingly) empty suit was in pain. And then it spoke. 

"Michael."

Its voice was lethargic, breathy, and mettalic, not unlike it's smaller twin. 

"Yeah, FUCK that!" Michael's voice was panicked and shaky as he fell to the ground, kicking himself backward and into the parlor as that thing followed him. 

And then upon Michael spotting a shadow in the corner of his eye, just past the doorway, he realized the third mistake he had made that night. While he had been preoccupied with the main characters in Fazbear's band, he had stupidly forgotten about an entire stage. This fucked up abomination of Fredbear being allowed to show up behind him could be excused in his own mind (he hadn't even known the bitch was there, for fuck's sake!), but the shining, yellowed teeth that appeared above his head could not. 

He let out a frightened yelp as Foxy's heavy body descended onto his. The sharp hook in place of a hand pressed harshly against his collar bone, and Michael's vision went white from the pain caused by nearly four hundred pounds of metal resting a quarter of it's weight on such a trail bone. Michael whimpered, head pressed to the floor and eyes screwed shut tight as equally-rotten breath brushed his cheek. 

"Please leave me, oh God, I'm so sorry, don't hurt me, please!" Quietly and desperately, Mike begged for mercy from the two bots. He heard three distinct and heavy footsteps approach them, tears beginning to fall down his face. 

Michael was scared, and the full body tremors showed this fear well. He hadn't been this scared since the last time he had hid under his bed from an angry and drunk William. 

He sat there like that, surrounded like prey to these monsters of his own creation, for what felt like hours. Later examining of the cameras would reveal it wasn't even ten minutes. 

And as those ten minutes ended, so did the pain in his shoulder. Foxy, almost reluctantly, rose from his spot of attack, and joined the other four animatronics in encircling Michael. He dared to open an eye, and saw that they were all simply watching him, and felt bile rise to his throat. 

"Get up, Michael." Fredbear (the big one, not the little one; God, Mike just might kick that piece of shit to kingdom come if he made it out of this room alive) spoke again. 

He slowly managed to sit up, the shaking of his body hindering any possibility of looking confident. Michael supposed that that was almost a good thing, thinking it better to appear humble and meek than arrogant and mighty. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, and he watched in a mixture of confusion and fear as the yellow thing sat down in front of him. 

"Hello, Michael. Join us, friends?" Its request to the others resulted in more jumping for Michael as the others around him sat down as well. He got hopeful for a moment. Maybe they just wanted to talk? Yes! These kids were just lonely, of course! (How many had William killed as a result of Michael's idiocy?) This was all a party! A big, happy tea party! (How angry they must be at Michael for causing them so much pain.)

"H-hey there, Fredbear.." Michael hoped that his shitty excuse of a rhyme entertained the not just a little, maybe that would increase his chances of evading a gruesome death. Damn it, where was smaller Fredbear when you needed him?

"Yes, that is one of my names." Michael began to notice all the different sounds within his voice, as if many people were speaking in synchronization. There was, of course, that raspy voice right in the middle, and obviously what sounded like a burnt out voice simulator (eat your heart out, IBM704). But underneath those two, it was almost like a sleepy little kid was speaking. It sent shivers down Michael's back. "Fredbear, Goldy, I have heard them all during this time. You might know me by a more familiar name."

Michael felt the bile in the back of his throat again, his distress only magnified as he tried to ignore the many sets of dead eyes around him. "I-I would?"

It (he?) nodded. "We're not strangers, after all. You used to call me Joseph Cassidy Afton."

~~~

Michael came back to reality in that same spot maybe fifteen minutes later, laying in a pool of his own vomit and still surrounded by bots (though they seemed much more curious about him now). There was a new "friend" with them now, though, and little Fredbear watched from the lap of his larger counterpart. 

He coughed, pulling himself back up into a sitting position, and wiped some of the vomit from his face. "I, uh, fuck. Sorry." Michael cleared his throat, shaking his head. "You wanna say that again?"

"He's your brother, dumbass." Michael whipped his head around to where Bonnie was sitting beside him, arms crossed and a bored look on his face as Chica reached across circle to smack his arm. "If you react like that to everything then you're gonna have to get a bucket, or a mop, or both."

"Don't be so mean, Jeremy." The chicken chastized the bunny, Michael confused as to why he was being defended. She turned to face him, and held her hand out invitingly. "I'm Susie, that jerk is Jeremy. Sorry about him! And for scaring you so bad. We didn't realize who you were at first."

Michael hesitantly shook her hand. Her voice was similar to Fredbear-Joseph's, but less dead. God, the idea that Joey was right there, breathing- albeit painfully- made him so sad. "I-its fine!" Mike's voice was high, and they could clearly tell how nervous he was. 

Susie nudged the brown bear beside her expectantly, caricature of a positive look not breaking from Michael's. He let out a displeased sigh, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Gabriel. Or Gabe, I don't care." Michael nodded, Gabriel clearly wanted nothing to do with this conversation. 

"An' I'm Fritz!" Michael's head whipped around to the Fox behind him, noticing how their characters' voices remained in their regular speech. It wasn't really too odd, considering they were speaking through the characters, but Michael found it entertaining in a fucked up sort of way. "Sorry for that nasty bruise there on your shoulder, ya looked like yet dad for a minute an' I got a little spooked."

Michael nodded a little, eyes moving back to the vessel apparently holding his brother's soul. Did it hold his body too? The costume didn't even have eyes, but he looked so tired, so sad. Mike felt uncomfortable in the momentary silence. He knew he needed to talk to Joseph, to apologize, to say anything, but he couldn't speak. His mouth was dry like cotton and the man wanted to curl up in the bed he had at Henry's house, and just cry. To hide from the monsters for forever. 

Michael couldn't stop thinking about the feeling of holding Joey's tiny body, of how cold he felt and how heavy he was. God, Joseph was so tiny, how had such a tiny little boy been able to bleed so much? The crunch of his skull was a sound he heard constantly, echoing within his own.

He had failed Joseph. Michael had failed Joseph irredeemably, had robbed the boy of his hopes, dreams, all because Michael had been selfish.

Michael was a useless, selfish, disgusting, sad excuse of a man.

"I forgave you."

Mike looked up, pulled out of his spiraling. He realized he was nearly hyperventilating, and the animatronics around him looked concerned. 

"I forgave you a long time ago. You need to forgive yourself." Joseph was holding the little Fredbear plush now, just like how he used to. "It's been a long time since we've spoke, friend," he whispered to the bear. 

He was quiet still. Just sat there shaking and feeling like he was going to throw up again.

Michael jumped a little when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked over at Foxy- no, Fritz, Goddamnit- for just a brief moment, then curling in on himself. Michael felt so small. 

Susie and Gabriel shared a look with each other, and stood. "We need to, uh, go check the kitchen, right boys?" She looked at the other two on Michael's opposite sides, and they seemed to get her cue as well. The four walked into the nearby room, Jeremy looking back at the brothers for a moment before disappearing into the kitchen. 

Michael turned back to face his little brother hesitantly. He was standing too, now, leaving the toy sitting on the floor. Joseph held his hand out, and Mike looked at it for a moment, before shyly accepting it. Joseph pulled him to his feet, and waited while Michael got his bearings. 

After Mike's head stopped spinning, he took his arm again, and began to walk him across the dining room to the bathrooms. "Wh- where are we going?" Michael let the other Afton lead him, but was confused. "Is something wrong?" His voice was small and weak. 

"It's been a while, Mikey, we need to catch up." Joseph looked back at him for a moment, yellow mask almost smiling. He looked over Michael for a moment too, and seemed to grimace. "That, and you need to clean up."


	6. Smoke Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs therapy. Michael just prefers the company of his Bic lighter.

As Mike sat on the bathroom sink, feeling numb and yet shaking ever so slightly, Joseph cleaned him up. He wiped gently at Michael's tear-stained cheeks, humming a lullaby that was faintly familiar to one that Mother had once put them to bed with. He wiped the snot and puke from his brother's lips, shushing the tiny whimpers he let out. Joey saw the far-away look in his eyes, saw how small and childlike Michael looked. He had never seen him so vulnerable.

Mikey had always been the scary big brother to him. He had never been afraid of anything, seemed only to feel anger at anything and everything. Joey remembered how Michael would antagonize him and Elizabeth, that stupid Foxy mask always near (if it hadn't been on his face, you could always find it tied to Michael's belt loops loosely). He remembered how Mike would stride through the house with arrogance, Walkman headphones blaring Judas Priest or Dire Straits as loud as they would go.

He remembered how Father rarely even gave his big brother a second glance.

Michael and Joseph were pulled from their quiet by Fritz walking into the bathroom. Mike felt like he could breath a little easier with someone else in the room, like the oxygen had been sucked out by the too-high concentration of Petty Afton Bullshit in the room. Joey and Fritz nodded at each other, and Mike looked away when he saw them share a concerned glance in his direction. He hated this helpless feeling. He hated their pity; didn't want it.

The two bots spoke quietly for a moment, a small bundle of fabric being passed to Joseph. Their hushed tones made it impossible for Mike to eavesdrop, hell, he wouldn't doubt it if they weren't even speaking a language he could comprehend. It wasn't like Henry wasn't smart enough to program the original bots to be able to silently communicate with one another. The two continued to converse for another moment, before Joseph returned to Michael's side, and handed him the set of clothes.

"I'll leave you two now. Just figured you wouldn't want to wear those clothes, so I looked in your backpack and got your hoodie and shorts. Hope you don't mind- I just figured it might be more comfortable than the spare uniforms we have laying around." Fritz hugged himself loosely, leaning against the doorway.

"It's fine, thank you." Mike sat the clothes on the other sink, slipping off his shirt. There was an awkward silence in the moments before he got his hoodie on, as he felt two sets of eyes roam his scarred chest. He knew they were judging him for it, knew they were disgusted with his childish and immature behavior. He judged himself, too. 

"We'll be out here." Joseph looked like he wanted to hug Michael, but Mike gave him a dark look that dared him to touch him. The other two left him to his vices, shutting the door behind themselves (Shit, were they still boys or were they men now? Mike didn't know if they had aged mentally or just gotten cynical in their fucked up purgatory. Shit, the only one who he had an idea for how old their soul was was Joseph, but he would still only be a teen if he had aged).

Michael shook his head, and stood shakily. His knuckles were white as he gripped the sink momentarily, letting the static leave his eyes and feeling return to his limbs. Once he felt confident that he wouldn't fall and break his nose, he let go of the sink, and slipped off his jeans. How long had he blacked out for? Better question, why did his body respond to fear by puking? Like, 'oh you're getting attacked? Here's some puke for whatever bullshit's currently trying to kill you!' He was just glad that his boxers weren't gross, and slipped on the shorts. He picked up the soiled clothes, and left the bathroom, turning off the light behind him. Mike didn't see any of them in the dining hall, and assumed they were discussing what to do with him.

Hopefully they would kill him. Make it nice and swift, and snap his neck. Gabriel and Jeremy seemed to dislike him enough that they might be up for it. All he knew as he went back to the office was that he felt like shit and very much wished death upon himself. He put away the clothes beside his bag, and noticed how Fritz had zipped it shut when he had found them. He seemed nice enough. Fucking shame it was that he was stuck as Foxy. 

But, hey, that stupid pirate had always been his favorite. The tiny bit inside him that was still a kid told him to befriend him and geek out, but he very quickly shut that idea the fuck down. Mike walked back to the dining room, and stood outside the kitchen for a moment. He could hear the slight mechanical groaning of their joints as they moved subtly, and knew that at least a majority of them were in there. Should he go in? He was standing like he was trying to listen in to their conversation; if any of them came out right now he'd look like a creep. Still, he felt like he would be interrupting something he didn't have the value to be privy to, so he went over to the janitor's closet instead.

He pulled out the mop and small cart, and grabbed some paper towels as back up before returning to where they had been sitting. At least none of them had cleaned it for him, he felt bad enough already. It was gross work, but the rhythmic and simple cleaning motions calmed his loud mind. He noticed Fredbear watching him from the edge of a nearby table, and huffed dramatically, knowing the little bear could hear him. He laid down the paper towels, and returned the mop and cart to the closet, making sure it was locked behind him. They didn't need some toddler sneaking off and drinking bleach the next day. When he returned, he picked up the towels and tested the ground to make sure it was dry and that no one would slip. Satisfied, Mike walked over to a nearby trashcan and tossed them, looking up to see Fredbear sitting on the cover. "What?" Mike had a tired grin on his face. "Finally accept that you're trash?"

The stuffed bear didn't move, and just seemed content with vaguely annoying Michael. He rolled his eyes and picked them up, setting the yellow thing in his hood. He might be a huge pain in Michael's ass, but hey, he had been one of two things to stick around from his childhood. Looking back at the kitchen door, he saw that the others were still talking. He let out a deep sigh, and went back to the office for his bag.

Once he grabbed it, he pulled it onto the desk and started digging through it. Finally finding his cigarettes and lighter, he grabbed his car keys and headed for the doors. A final glance at the kitchen window revealed the outlined silhouette of one of them, and he figured no one would miss him for another fifteen minutes. He unlocked the front door, slipped outside and flipped up his hood. The downpour hadn't calmed at all, for a moment Michael felt as if it was raining harder. At least it hadn't been overly hot lately; he loved the smell of rain but found the stench of wet hot asphalt to be nauseating.

Michael first went to the trunk, and dug around in his suitcase for a t-shirt. He figured he'd need to leave sometime tomorrow and find a laundromat, there were certainly enough coins in his bag to allow for a much larger load than what he deemed necessary. Once he found and settled on an old NASA shirt, he shut the trunk and got into the driver's seat. He slipped off the hoodie and replaced it with the shirt, before returning the hoodie to his torso. Surprisingly, the yellow little shit hand't fallen out. All the better, he thought, less work for Mikey-A. Michael didn't start the car, but did light up a cigarette for his shaky hands.

He sat there with his door opened a crack, the dark blanketing the eldest Afton in a rather calming, yet eerie, manner. He listened to the pitter-patter of the rain against the car roof, eyes closed as he took a long drag from the cigarette. Ah, nothing beat the fine taste of shit sticks that Marlboro had expertly managed to craft. It left his mouth dry and the rancid taste of tar along his tongue. Disgusting, he thought, but you know you'll never quit.

A bang on a window pane pulled him from his thoughts, and he jumped up, snuffing out the butt on he pavement. Mike looked up at the front doors to see Gabriel waving impatiently for him to return. Well, he couldn't run from them for forever, he assumed. He locked up his car and walked back into the building, a disgruntled brown bear standing in front of him disapprovingly. Mike apologized quietly, re-locking the front doors behind him. 

"Get in the dining room, we need to talk." Gabe glanced oddly for a moment at Fredbear, before shaking his head dismissively.

Ah, shit. Mike silently hoped it was just some half-assed attempt at an intervention as he followed the other to where the rest of the band sat patiently (well, most of them seemed patient. Jeremy's leg bounced and his eyes stared at the wall in front of him. Could souls trapped in robots get anxiety?). He sat beside Susie, knowing the empty spot next to Joseph was meant for him, but Michael just couldn't. He couldn't think about that right now. And besides, Susie seemed nice enough.

Once Gabriel had taken his seat at the party table, Joseph adjusted himself in his seat. Please, Michael thought, please just let it be their nosy self righteousness telling me what to do, I don't want to talk.

The faded yellow suit cleared his throat, or at least that was what Mike assumed the noise he had let out was. "So," he started. "We need your help."

Ouch. Not an intervention like he'd hoped; this meant Michael actually had to have cognitive function for the conversation. Oh well; you win some, you loose some. "Sure, what is it? I mean, I'll help with what I can." The guilt was thick in his throat as he spoke.

The bots shared a glance. "We want to kill Father, and let everyone free."

Well, fuck. This was off to a terrible start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I kind of plan out what the next few chapters go like in my head as I write so that I know when to stop as like a segue, and this fic is gonna be like. at least 20-25 chapters. and then I think there's gonna be a second one but we'll burn that bridge when we get to it


	7. Bad News

A few hours had passed and Michael was deathly tired. His brain hurt from all the theories and plans and explanations that the bots had offered up to his (unfortunately) sober mind. There was only around thirty minutes left until Scott would return, and he hadn't even been paying attention to the portion of the room where the kid had been nearly attacked. 

"Gee, guys," he started, careful not to anger any of their already worked-up minds, "This is a lot. Are you even sure about any of that?" They all had their own ideas on how to find William, their specific wants for him to have a slow and painful death explicitly detailed as each of them had spoken. Gabriel thought he might be hiding at an abandoned Freddy's location, Jeremy wanted to go to Fredbear's, Fritz and Susie both thought the empty space in front of the office was suspicious, and Joseph was convinced that Mike needed to check their former home. Each of their ideas had spun off into another direction, seemingly infinite possibilities reaching at straws until Michael's head started to hurt. 

"It can't hurt to at least check," Fritz muttered. Michael looked around at their faces, and could see the emotions reflecting somehow in their plastic eyes; a dangerous mix of fear, anger, and regret pooling and melting into one another. "History can't repeat itself if we don't let it." Nods of agreement were given by the others as the fox spoke.

He sighed deeply, thinking. "Do you guys really think he's still alive? I mean, it's been years! Even if he was still alive, he could be on the other side of the world by now." Michael was so tired of thinking about William. Bile had been resting in the back of his throat as the guilt consumed him ever since this conversation began. He thought he might just be rotten, but that wasn't his place to tell.

Joseph adjusted himself where he sat, crossing his arms loosely. All his moments wee so lethargic. "Mikey, it's a feat in and of itself that the rest of us are still breathing. Is it such an impossible thought that he could be too? You heard what happened to that kid, it's gotta be Dad!" 

Michael held his face in his hands. Briefly, a list was made of things that needed to be done in the next thirty-or-so minutes. He needed to check the cameras, change into something approachable, and try to wake himself up. God, today had barely even begun and it sucked. "Have you guys thought about the fact that kids have overactive imaginations? Brat probably just saw a shadow weird and scared himself. This security system is buggy enough to excuse the glitch." He saw Gabriel un-cross his legs, Jeremy and Susie getting into defensive positions as well. "But let's entertain the thought that it was real for a moment." Michael sat back up as he spoke, hands beginning to gesticulate his words. "That little chance that a kid could have been hurt. And on that slight, teeny-tiny off chance that it was't, in fact, a shadow or spook, have you considered that it might be a copycat? Or another predator that just chose this place because of the abundance of children and the lack of parental watch?" Seriously, how was any Freddy's still getting business?

He guessed that based on the hesitation they gave him that they had not considered that thought. Michael sighed deeply again, and stood, dusting off the seat of his shorts. Joseph looked like he wanted to keep up arguing, but he held up a finger to quiet him.

"Look, I understand you guys are upset. It's just... a lot." He began to walk back over to the front, figuring he should get some jeans and an okay-ish t-shirt. "I'm just one guy, a-and I've got my own shit to deal with, y'know?" Michael paused for a moment at the doorway, eyes pointed guiltily down at his feet. "I just don't want my whole life to revolve around this shithole."

He slipped outside, car keys fumbling in a shakey hand as he briskly walked to his car. He felt like he was going to cry, or be sick, and he didn't have time to cry so he let that rot escape through his mouth. He stumbled in the still-rainy parking lot, bending over and bracing himself with the back corner of his car, and threw up. he really should have eaten a bit more today, he thought as his throat burned painfully. Stomach acid dripped from his nose and lips, and Michael gasped for breath. 

He stood like that for a few minutes, whatever energy he'd had left in him drained. He felt so guilty. It was his goddamn fault they were here, his fault they were in pain, his fault that Father had ever even snapped. Because of Michael, they never got to say goodbye to loving parents, they'd never get another first-day in school, never get to hug their pets again. He had been a selfish little brat and taken all that away from them, and now he couldn't even suck up his own bullshit long enough to offer them a little reprieve? God, he was pathetic!

Joseph and Henry could repeat the same bullshit all they wanted, it'd never change the unarguable fact that this was all Michael's fault. What a selfish, selfish little boy he was.

He wiped at his snot and puke covered face with the sleeve of his hoodie, briefly noting the lack of weight in the hood behind his neck. At least Fred-fuck knew when to give him space. Michael popped the trunk of his car open, and searched through his suitcase for another well-worn shirt and pair of thrifted jeans. Satisfied with what he found, he peeled off his hoodie and replaced it with the faded orange tee, tossing the dirtied garment carelessly into the trunk. With no fucks left to give, he stripped out of the shorts and changed into the jeans in the slowly-brightening parking lot. If someone wanted to watch him struggle, they were more than welcome to. At least someone could get a kick out of his misery.

Michael re-locked the car and returned inside the pizzeria. One look into the dining room showed that the bots had returned to their respective stages. The pale morning light gave way to a serene setting, and if he pushed back his thoughts enough Michael could forget what had happened not even ten minutes ago. He returned to the back room, making sure everything was in its rightful place to hopefully drown suspicion from Scott. Once he reached the shitty old office chair, he began to look through the security cameras again. God, he thought as he kept finding scenes of himself, I look like a bona fide idiot.

By the time he heard the front doors open, Michael was even more frustrated. Nothing had happened on camera, so why had the camera freaked out? If it had blipped out for that long, then it should have done so again today. No matter, he thought, standing to meet Scott in the hall.

The ginger man gave Michael a tired smile and wave as they approached each other. "Eventful night?"

Michael laughed, but shook his head. "Nah. Almost fell asleep, actually. Our hopeful kidnapper has gone dark." The poor guy didn't need to know all the events that had transpired. At least not yet, he'd probably check the cameras in a minute and come running at Michael with a pitchfork. But that was a problem for later-Michael to deal with.

Scott sighed, holding the back of his neck for a moment. "I sent Vanessa over to the other restaurant for today, hopefully she can hold down the fort for a little while. The owner's not too happy, but I went ahead and closed down this location for a week. I don't want to risk anything."

Mike nodded, leaning against the wall. "Good choice, the police should have shut it down if they were taking this seriously. But, c'est la vie I guess." Scott waved to lead Michael to the kitchen, nodding as well.

"I was really surprised they didn't. The whole 'Afton Family Curse' usually garners more care with incidents like these around town, but I swear it's like everyone's a zombie lately!" Scott laughed, pulling out some microwaveable meals from a fridge and popping them into an oven.

Mike tried not to wince at his last name being spoken. What the fuck was that? "Er, 'Afton Family Curse?'" He didn't want to think about it, but he figured he should gauge how much Scott really knew eventually. This day just kept getting worse.

"Surprised you don't know about it. Most Fazbear employees know." Scott shrugged and leaned against the counter. "It's the story of why these places are all fucked up. One of the original founders of Fredbear's had a family, right? Anyway, there was a freak accident and the youngest got killed. Story goes that the old man went crazy and killed his other kids as well as did the kidnappings, some people say he even ate his wife, but I don't believe that part. I think it was all so the youngest wouldn't be alone or something? Anyway, apparently that's why the bots get all freaky come sundown. Something about revenge on their lost souls." Scott shrugged again.

Mike felt his face go pale at the partially-outlandish story. It certainly was comedic compared to reality. "Ah, yeah, I knew the guy did the kidnappings, just not that there was a whole curse thing tied up to it." He bit his lip as he realized how many different variations of his life had probably been told at this point. Yuck.

"Yeah? Well, it's practically woven into training for the graveyard shift workers. I dunno, I think it's kind of interesting, especially since I had a younger cousin that was involved in the kidnappings. It's sad, but I feel like me working here honors him in a way. Doesn't let his spirit die out." The somber look on the other man's face was like a slap to Michael's.

"Uh, what do you mean? If you don't mind me asking, I don't want to pry." Michael felt the nausea beginning to return.

Scott looked up at Michael, and stood straight. "Ah, you're fine." He let out another sigh. "Um, one of the four that went missing in North Carolina. Fritz MacLoughlin. I only ever saw him at family get-togethers, he was my dad's nephew. They gave up looking for him a while ago. Just gives me some sort of reprieve that I never did." He smiled, and let out a short laugh. "I remember he was really energetic, but kind of shy too. I dunno, he was a fun kid." Scott's eyes had that faraway look in them as he spoke.

Michael needed to get a grip on this puking nonsense, he thought, the guilt starting to eat at him stronger. Mike glanced back at the kitchen door, how would Scott feel if he knew his cousin was mere meters away? He'd fucked up so many families, not just his own. Who was he kidding, he'd never get any rest. He didn't deserve it anyway. "Shit, man, I'm sorry." Mike felt like crap now. Scott was a good guy, albeit definitely fucked up, he didn't deserve to have to be around Michael. This was just one more reason why he was grateful for Henry not giving away his real last name.

But fuck, they really did have a curse, didn't they?

Scott pulled the now warmed meals from the microwave oven, putting them down on the counter between them. "Hungry?" He grabbed two forks and tossed one to Mike, who caught it and began to pick at one of the identical meals. 

Quietly, they ate, Michael finishing his meal quickly as a hunger he didn't realize he had took over himself. Once they were both finished, the pair started to head back to the office for some more conversation, when the phone began to ring. 

"Just a minute," Scott said, pace to the office quickening as he picked up a landline. "Hello? Ah, 'Nessa, what's wrong? You sound terrible?" Michael watched nervously as the color drained from his partner's face. He stood up straight, hands shaking as he began to shout in a panic. "We- we'll be right there!" He slammed the phone back onto the receiver, and Michael moved out of the way as Scott ran down the hall, pulling his own keys from his pocket. 

"What's wrong?" Mike was worried now, Scott hadn't even been this shaken when he'd first arrived the day prior. He followed him quickly, locking the restaurant up behind them. Shit, it was only nine in the morning, Mike was not meant for quick movements this early. Shit, had the breakfast shift at the other restaurant even cranked out their first order yet?

"It fucking happened again! They got something on camera, though!"


	8. same story, different faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Mike head over to the sister location.

By the time Scott and Michael arrived at the second pizzeria, there were already several squad cars to meet them; lights and sirens blazing away. Michael ran over to Scott as he began to exit his car, both of them walking briskly towards the entrance. 

"You alright? You look like you're gonna be sick." Mike knew it was a stupid question, but couldn't help his worry at the lack of color on the other man's face. 

Scott didn't answer, Michael only caught a glimpse of his jaw tensing for a moment. They were almost to the entrance when a nearby cop yelled for them to stop. 

"Hey, MacLoughlin! Get your ass over here!"

Scott and Mike stopped in their tracks, the redhead nervously glancing between the door and the cop. He turned to Mike, beginning to walk over to the police officer. "Go see 'Nessa, figure out what happened!"

Mike nodded, waving goodbye at the man as he entered the pizzeria. His hands rested in the pockets of his jeans, now much more thankful he had changed, and he looked about the main dining room as he passed by the relatively small foyer. 

The main stage was different than at Junior's; instead of set into the wall and rectangular, it jutted out in a sort of dome shape. There was a prize counter directly to his left, a large box decorated to look like a present resting against the wall. God, he hated that box. Well, more like he hated what was inside the box. He remembered when Henry had first made that security bot to watch over both Michael's siblings as well as his own son and daughter. To put it simply, the damn thing looked creepy as hell to Mike.

This room felt huge with its light colored pastel walls, tall ceilings, and many dining tables. Past the prize counter was a smaller room with tables low to the ground. Mike could see a miniature carousel, a ball pit, and what looked like it might have been a pile of scrap. The sign above the entryway to the room read 'Kids Cove,' so why was there a pile of scrap?

Mike shook his head, and turned back to view the main dining room. The restaurant looked clear of most patrons, minus the weeping mother holding her daughter close to her chest. They sat at a table near the front stage, cops talking to them. He heard a door swing open to the right of him, and looked over to see Vanessa walk out of the kitchen. 

She looked... Angry. Or frustrated. Or maybe a combination. Mike watched as he saw her lips move; the girl was talking to herself. Her eyes were glued to the floor, and she leaned against the edge of the stage. Glad to know her choice in men wasn't the only thing crazy with her. 

"Um. Hey." Michael cautiously walked up to the girl, her gaze shooting up in surprise that he was there. Her face changed to a happier one, and she over-excitedly wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Mike tensed up at her affection, waiting for her to pull away before relaxing. 

"Hey, you! I was wondering when you'd show up! Scott's outside with Chief Burke, right?" Vanessa crossed her arms, looking up at him brightly. Why was she so happy?

"Uh, yeah. I'm pretty sure that was him." Mike looked back at the main entryway, and he could see Scott facing some cops. He turned back to Vanessa, a hand moving to rest on the back of his neck. "Shit. I can't believe Burke still works here." He had spoked quietly, not meaning to actually speak but his thoughts still made themselves known. It was a somewhat surprising notion. Mike remembered how his son, Carlton, was the same age as Joseph. The boy had been invited to his house for his little brothers birthday party once upon a time. 

Vanessa looked at him oddly, her head tilted. "You really are from Durham County, huh?"

Ah, shit. Quit being reminiscent, dumbass. Michael chastized himself for being too open, too vocal; clearly Vanessa wasn't going to have anything pulled over her head. She looked suspicious of Mike, and it made him worry. 

What if she found out who he was? Who he was related to? 

"Hehe, yeah, I guess." He sounded nervous as he spoke. "Well, um, what happened with the kid?" Yes, good job, change the subject. 

Vanessa still gave Mike a suspicious look, but glanced over to the police at the table. "Oh, yeah. Er, everyone was fine and eating breakfast as normal, and then there was a scream. Next thing you know, she comes running around the corner from one of the party rooms saying someone tried to get her. There's a nasty bruise on her arm, but I think she ran into a doorway."

"Geez. Cameras catch anything?" Mike looked over at the shaken up kid; her eyes were far away. Poor girl. 

"Cameras didn't catch anything, the lights were off in the room she was in so all they caught was her sneaking into the party room and running right back out. Bon's system, however, caught a shadow of someone coming out of the service room and heading down the hall." Vanessa sent an odd look to the blue rabbit as she peeked backstage for a moment. 

Mike nodded and pulled himself onto the stage, maneuvering around on the dimly lit platform. He stepped behind Freddy and Chica to access the back of Bonnie's head, pressing a button to access the quick-view screen on the back of his endoskeleton. 

Thank whatever God there was that Henry could develop a top-of-the-line bot.

He fiddled with buttons around the screen, trying to ignore how Vanessa was looking over his shoulder, and rewound the tape. Mike watched the curtains open, the police walk out backwards, and the dining room fill up. Everything looked comedic in reverse. 

On one of the pre-programmed right turns Bonnie took (to make it seem like he was looking at the whole room), Mike caught a glimpse of something moving in the hallway. Bonnie's system had clearly flagged the movement, too, as the head quickly turned back to face the hall. 

Mike watched as the service room door slowly opened. The movement seemed to catch the eye of the little girl, seated nearby, and she turned to watch. What looked like an anthropomorphic rabbit peeked out of the room and waved at the girl. She waved back, and Mike could see her head move to follow the rabbit thing as it slinked down the hallway. She stood as it disappeared down the hall, peeking herself around the doorframe. 

The little girl (whose general silhouette was now somewhat familiar to Mike) could be seen sneaking into the dark hallway. Business hadn't changed, Michael thought; the party rooms were closed for the breakfast hours so the lights were all off. When she disappeared down the hall, Bonnie stayed still for another few moments, but when nothing else happened he resumed his normal programming (albeit with a little higher sensitivity on flagging patron movements). 

Mike fast-forwarded a little bit until the dining room itself seemed to jump. Some adults stood for a moment, worried faces on many of them. Unfortunately, while these boys could process audio, they didn't have enough space to record it. Bonnie turned again to see where the presumed auditory interruption was coming from, and the little girl ran back in. Mike continued to fast forward on the tape, trying to see if anything else was seen moving in the hall, but with no luck. 

Eventually, he lowered the back of Bonnie's head mask into place, less than satisfied with what he saw. The stupid fucking rabbit. It had to have been Father, and Michael hated that fact. He didn't know how, but he supposed that it wasn't such a long shot that he would be alive with his victims. He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed deeply, fighting the nausea that was trying to come up. 

In the darkness of his mind, Michael felt himself as a kid again. He was hiding under his bed, shaking in fear. A hand was over his mouth as he shook afraid, holding his little brothers bear close to his chest. He could feel cold snot dripping onto his hand from his nose, his eyes soaked with fear-induced tears. Mike scooted himself further back, making his awkward preteen body squish against the wall, and tried to be as quiet as he could. Footsteps creaked from the hall, and he nearly shouted in fright as he saw Father's familiar dress shoes step into his room. He watched him walk up to the end of his bed, and stop. Oh no. No no no no no no no. This was bad. They both were still for another few seconds, until Father got down on his knees. Michael was trying not to scream. Father was going to hurt him, he just knew it. Michael's body was so tense in that moment that it hurt. 

And then father looked down and into Michael's soul and he screamed. 

Mike jumped as a hand on his shoulder pulled him from his memories. He turned, and his face was mere inches from Vanessa's. She looked concerned. His face flushed red in embarrassment, not entirely sure what he had looked like to her. 

"You ok?" She stood on her toes, bursting his bubble of personal space even more. "You look a little out of it."

He laughed awkwardly and pushed her away, stepping around her and towards the edge of the stage. "Yeah." He cleared his throat for a moment. "Cops got a copy of the tape?" Mike's hands returned to his pockets. 

He caught a glimpse of her nodding. "Yeah. Already checked everywhere, too. Can't figure out where they went." Vanessa walked up to him, forcing Michael to face her. "Who do you think it was?" Her eyes were unfamiliarly cold. 

Michael shrugged, and turned away, her gaze incriminating in a sick way. "Too early to tell. We'll have to figure out where the rest of the staff were to make sure it wasn't any of them." He went through a list in his mind of places Father could have snuck in from. There weren't many, Henry had designed this place to be as safe as possible. "I just wanna know why the camera system here sucks so much."

She made an affirmative noise, and moved to get off the stage. "Well, I'll let you say hello to these guys. You probably missed them, right?" Vanessa gestured to the bots and laughed, before disappearing behind the curtain. 

Michael rolled his eyes, arms moving to hug himself tightly. The multicolored lights above him left an eerie glow to the stage, and he felt so uncomfortable. He stood like that for a moment more, just trying to comfort himself after that vivid fear-ridden memory. 

"Don't trust anyone."

Michael whipped his head around, comfort forgotten and body once again tense. Who the fuck just spoke? It had sounded like it was right in his ear. None of the bots had moved even a centimeter, and nobody was close by enough for it to have had that effect. He turned to exit the stage, thoroughly unnerved. 

The voice had sounded odd. Not clear, like a regular persons would be, but not as metallic as the bots at Junior's. Frankly, it sounded somewhat underwater, but like an adult and a child were screaming the words at the same time while beneath the surface. Michael's hand was on the curtain when he heard a floorboard creak behind him.

He whipped around once more, and nearly yelped when he came face-to-face with Bonnie himself. Michael started to fall backwards, only for the blue bunny to catch him and pull him back to his feet. Finally catching his balance, Michael stood still as he took in the newfound knowledge that these bots were probably sentient too. Their eyes met, a look akin to curiosity on both of their faces, and for a moment Michael felt calm. 

"Don't trust anyone. You Aftons know best what liars people can be."

Michael nodded slowly, trying not to make it obvious that the other two bots were seriously creeping him out, heads now turned to face him but their bodies still facing the curtain.

Bonnie let go of Mike, moving back to his place on stage. The other two turned their faces forward again, and Mike stared at the three for a moment. After he realized they weren't going to do anything else, Michael hopped off the stage, now on the opposite side of the room from where he'd started. 

He looked around for a moment to assess the changes that the diner had gone through during his time on stage. The police were escorting the family out, Scott holding the door for them. Mike couldn't hear what he was saying, but it looked like he was apologizing. When the manager caught glimpse of Michael, he ran over, discolored face showing a hint of thanks. 

"Hey!" He sounded so out of breath. Michael forced himself not to flinch when he clapped him on the shoulder. "Was looking for you. You see anything? I mean, you were back there for the tapes, right?"

Mike nodded. "I'll need to investigate more, but yeah. Something's definitely up."

Scott sighed, crossing his arms. "I dunno, I guess I feel bad for 'Nessa. Both times it's happened she was running the building alone. It's stressful for me, let alone a kid like her."

Michael got a weird feeling at that statement. Like someone had taken a block of ice and slid it up his spine. "Huh." He blinked, and noticed Fredbear seated on top of the large present box. Well, fuck, what did they want now?

Scott gave him a funny look, before beginning to back towards the entryway, tossing a set of keys over to Michael. "I've got to call the owner, and then head down to the police station for a little bit. Everyone should have cleared out, can you lock up? Don't wanna hold you up or anything."

He nodded, catching the keys and walking towards the door. "Yeah, that'll give me time to look around here and call He- er- corporate." Shit. God, Michael was a dumbass today. But, maybe that was just him running on three hours of sleep over thirty six hours. 

He followed Scott out, locking the door behind him. Michael turned back to the prize counter only to meet Fredbear close up. He pouted, and flicked the old thing on its nose. Mike picked it up, and sat down on top of the counter. 

"Well, stinky? Got anything to say or did you just show up because you knew I was busy?" Michael was long used to their annoying pop-up visits, but still found the bear somewhat unpredictable. They were quiet, and Michael felt eyes on him that weren't Fredbear's. 

Eyes that made him feel like he was being hunted. 

He continued to sit still, content with staring at Fredbear and listening to the building breathe. He sat like that for a while, hair raised and skin cold. 

And then something fell in the back hallway and Michael shot up as quickly as he does when he wakes up from nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! I realized I forgot to put a note at the end of the last chapter after a return from like a week and a half hiatus. Basically my family moved and it's been hectic. But writing makes me feel good so I'mma suck it the fuck up for a little bit and give y'all the weird ass content you want. 
> 
> Also TYSM FOR READING! And please leave me some kudos if you like it, it really does make a difference. And those of you that comment, I really would die for you 0.0
> 
> But yeah. If any of you want to talk my username for Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr is vanfeefee19 and I'm always up for a chat!

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck man idk I need therapy but can't go so you get this weird bullshit that's been sitting in my head for a few months
> 
> Inspired by videos by Squimpus Mcgrimpus on YouTube.


End file.
